


A(n Enslaved) King's Reach

by paperbridge



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Double Penetration, Emotional Manipulation, Gangbang, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Sinful shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:51:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8298311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperbridge/pseuds/paperbridge
Summary: So, coherently reconnecting the headcanons; Strega got dicked by his uncle when he was a kid and that fucked him up mentally a little, but he never realized. Then he got into high society and kinda tried to forget about the entire thing (except getting occasionally dicked by the uncle every now and again). He almost managed to block out the sluttiness, but then all the plot goes down (or maybe canon divergence where the Vanettis capture him or something?) and the Galassias end up being obliterated. Either way, Strega ends up in a gangbang and his old instincts of being addicted to cock reemerge.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [37h4n0l](https://archiveofourown.org/users/37h4n0l/gifts).



 

* * *

 

Strega always knew when he was needed and what was needed from him by the subtle cough that his uncle would hide in a sleeve, or by the hand along his shoulder that lingered longer than it ought to. And he followed. He did what he needed.

  
He has always been good at picking up motions-it came with the _training_ , he guessed. His uncle would say it was to train his durability, and make him a better Don, in the future-he saw it as nothing more than training a slave.  
  
And as he swallows bitterness and fills with warmth, Strega realizes that’s all he really is.

 

* * *

  
  
He sits in his chair now, as Nero must be doing, and as Vincent had before, and so on and so on, waiting for his guests as he puffed out the plumes he had kept in him for too long. His fingers rapp against the armrest’s hard wood that connects with velvet. He’s waiting as patiently as he can.

  
  
He thinks back on his uncle, long past his prime and whose tenacity had left years ago, and he thinks back to how much longer it will take before his dear uncle meets with the same fate as his legacy.

  
Strega thinks back on Avilio’s pale skin and dead eyes, wondering if he will be the one knocking or if he’d be knocked, himself.

  
He also thinks back, and he regrets going so deep into his mind, on his uncle’s tight grip and how he hadn’t always been wrinkled and soft. That’s the uncle he respected, and that’s the uncle he hated.

  
  
And as he thinks, Strega wonders if he’s actually the boss. He’s t he goddamn don-at least, he's going to be-of the Galassias Family, the strongest in this fucking city, and in this whole goddamn state, but to what end? The King’s reach is long, but what about Nero? How come he has to wait for his uncle to kick the bucket while Nero’s taken control of the show? What keeps Avilio tied down to that bastard, and not to him? What does Nero _have?_ What does Strega _lack?_

 

Strega can’t wait. He stands, a stony expression as he’s about to stand when the doors swing open. He glares down the shadow, and the shadow becomes Avilio. He makes to smile, but a darkness looms over the younger man like death. He should pay more attention to it, but he’s willing to look past it for Avilio.

  
He feigns cool, twisting his frown into a smirk. “Ah, Avilio,” He says pleasantly, smothering his cigar in the ashtray. He kicks his leg off his knee and stands tall, smoothing out his suit. “I had a feeling you’d understand--”

  
  
“Understand what?” Avilio deadpans, staying right where he was, his golden eyes glinting like knives. His voice is a shot in the room, and Nero’s the bullet.

 

\---

 

He wakes up uncomfortably, grimacing as he takes in the dull light showering over him like a halo. He frowns at his hands, tied behind his back in a tight knot while legs are tied down to the chair’s.

 

The chair itself is small and uncomfortable, old and worn out.

  
He looks up at Avilio and Ganzo with a bored expression that threatens on anger.

  
“What is this?” He asked, his voice dragging from his time unconscious.

  
“A change in plans,” Avilio replies, his expression unreadable, while Ganzo’s is tense but satisfied.  
  
“Oh?” Strega turns his attention to Ganzo now, taking satisfaction in seeing the older man tense more from the Galassias. “I’ve offered you a lot already, _Ganzo._ Is there something you’re not satisfied with?”

 

Ganzo masks his unease with a shrug. “You see, Strega,” He coughs, “Your... ambitions? Don Galassias doesn’t follow them.”

  
_The fuck does that mean._

  
  
Strega scoffs at that, about to roll his eyes. “My _ambitions_ were his _own_ , _old man_.”

  
  
“Well, they’re not anymore,” Avilio cuts in, interrupting Strega and making it clear that the Vanettis weren’t the masterminds in this plot. “And he’s gone to great lengths to discard of his ambitions as well as anyone who follows them.”

  
  
A silence sweeps the room like a wave, crashing over Strega.

 

“Are you telling me my uncle’s _disposing of me?_ ” His voice is harsh and biting, like salt sprays and freezing water.

  
“Yes.”

  
The silence crashes against Strega again, and he’s grasping for a way out of it.

  
He leans back into his chair, different from the lush velvet and wood of his previous one.

  
“And this is where you dispose of me?” Strega sneers, cocking his head and managing a smug smirk. “Am I going to be made into a meal?”

  
Ganzo freezes at that, turning to Avilio, but Avilio presents a smile of his own. This smile makes Strega’s blood run cold, and it falters his smile and last wall of confidence.

  
“In a way, yes.”

  
\---

  
_“Get your dick out of my face.”_

 

Strega snarls as Nero digs his fingers into skin and bone, grabbing a hold of his face with a huff.

  
“Fuck,” Nero growls, forcing Strega down on his cock, pinching the man’s nose and denying him air. “These Galassias bastards are always so full of themselves”

  
Avilio nods, his eyes vacant and fiery. He doesn’t enjoy the sight of this, turning his gaze away. “They’re worse in Chicago.”

  
_Bastard,_ Strega thinks, glaring Nero’s dick down as he holds his breath. _I own you all._

 _  
_ Nero groans, his grip on Strega loosening a bit as he turns to Avilio with a frown. “See?” He says to his companion. “He’s gonna kill himself before I can pry his mouth open.”

  
Strega narrows his eyes at that, his gaze going hazy as the need for air rose. Is Nero trying to fuck him out of obligation? What was this?

  
Avilio pushes himself off the wall, squinting his eyes at Nero. He approaches them calmly and Strega can note the bags under his eyes while Avilio steadies a hand on Nero’s ass. He rustles something out of his pocket, something that Strega can’t really make out-

  
_“Fuck!”_ Strega curses, trembling from the shock that _Avilio fucking stabbed his shoulder, what the fuck--_ He chokes on Nero’s cock, gagging around the thickness of it while Avilio coaxes the Vanetti to push deeper.

  
“If you think about biting down,” Avilio threatens in a low voice, grinding the knife into cloth and skin, blood staining his shoulder as the younger man slowly pulls the knife out. The knife shines in the light, blood dripping from the point as Avilio’s eyes send out a warning sign. “Stop thinking about it. It’s better to swallow.”

  
_Son of a bitch,_ Strega thinks, cursing the bitter taste of Nero in his throat, forcing disgust as a front as Nero rears back to only shove himself back in forcefully. _Son of a bitch._

  
Avilio exchanges a look with Nero, an expression Strega can’t see, but there’s a softness in the way Nero looks at the man. _Son of a bitch._

 

“Wash your dick when you’re done.”

  
Strega writhes and grates his teeth along Nero’s shaft, pulling his head away.

  
“Yeah, yeah,” Nero pants, groaning as he grabs a fistful of Strega’s dark hair and pulls him back on his cock, choking him again with the size of him. “I don’t really want to do this, anyway.”

  
He says that so sweetly that it disgusts Strega. Why does Nero have to reassure Avilio of this?

  
“If you don’t like it,” Avilio says wryly, clutching the door handle on his way out. “We can always give him to the house.”

  
\---

  
The rooms Strega was used to were always big, luxurious rooms with comfortable, expensive furniture with wine and cigars always ready for consumption. He recalls sitting on his dear uncle’s lap, sharing a smoke after an exhausting afternoon. Curtains hang and flow down to the floors, closing them off from the world.

 

Growing older, those kinds of rooms were only fit for business affairs and business. Strega preferred that air over the heat and damp smell of sex, power having always satisfied him more than the intimacy sex offered.

  
He’d much rather have full power and control over something than a shared experience, so offering Ganzo the slightest bit of power that he did went against himself.

  
And now, in this damp room that smells like sex and reeks of drabness, Strega regrets going against his principles.

  
He lay on the floor, still tied down by this goddamn chair, resting his head against the pool of cum Nero left behind. Most of it spilled from his face and mouth, and the smell of it overwhelmed him to the point of outrage.

  
_Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it._

  
“You’re still up.”

  
Avilio stands by the door, light pouring in behind him and Strega almost mistakes him for an angel.

  
But he isn’t.

 

He’s the reason why he’s ended up like this.

 

“Does it look like I’m up?” He spits the last of Nero’s seed onto the hard ground, hitting Avilio’s shoe with it.

  
“You look like a dog, actually.”

  
“Fuck you.”

  
Avilio goes down on a knee, forcing Strega to look up at him. He regards the Galassias carefully, his cutting eyes stopping Strega from attempting anything.

  
“You’re only making this harder on yourself,” He says coldly, his golden eyes flashing and mocking him. “Next time it would be best to swallow.”

  
“And if I don’t?”

  
“We’ll do more than break bone.”

  
“You’ll kill me?”

 

“Just the spirit of you.” Avilio pushes Strega’s cheek back onto the pool of cum, picking himself up. “It’s best to behave.”

  
\---

  
He hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but Strega realizes he must have when he opens his eyes and the air in the room is muskier and heavier than last.

  
His eyes felt heavy in his skull, his mind hazy and full of cotton. He was brought upright again, his cheek bruised from how hard he had hit the floor last. His gaze trailed from the door that hadn’t quite been closed properly-a distant light peered from the sliver-to the hard floor, and finally, to himself.

  
His limp dick was in clear view, his slacks ripped and torn and barely hanging onto him. His dick glistened with saliva and cum. Strega cursed, a flush reddening his face as he jumped in surprise. As he tried to pull away from himself and the situation that had already passed, Strega tipped his chair backwards.

  
The Galassias lay on his back now, his teeth bared at the dim light hanging over him and illuminating the state he was in. His chest was filling with rage and humiliation, wondering when the hell those Vanettis got to him, and for them to get at him while he was asleep…

  
Strega noted, then, that he had been re-tied while he was resting; his hands that had been behind his back were now tied in front of him, and his legs had been spread wider than they had been earlier. They had renewed the binds for more durable rope, the previous coated with blood from the Galassias’ earlier struggles.

 

Now that he thought of it, this chair had a cushion to it and was bigger than the last.

  
The sliver of distant light opened until the whole doorway filled the entryway of the room with it. The light slipped behind the clear figures of strangers.

  
We can always give him to the house, Avilio had said. Strega finally understood what he meant by that.

  
“Would you look at that,” One of the men purred, nudging one of his buddies with a grin. “He knocked himself over.” His buddy snickered, “Yeah, and after Nero went to such lengths to making him comfortable.”

  
“Which one of you ruined my pants?” Strega cuts in, his voice quivering with rage.

  
Another man coughs-Strega assumes it’s supposed to be laughter. Footsteps approach him, and he’s not entirely sure how many men are present until they tower over him.

 

Three.

 

“Well, he’s got that Galassias look to him,” The younger man purrs, smirking at his companions.

  
A man undoes the restraints on his legs, pulling him closer to the edge of the chair and another keeps Strega’s leg spread as he tears up more of his pants.

  
“Got the same mouth as ‘em, too.”

 

“Hey,” Strega growls, hating being ignored. “Did you mutts hear me? I said-- Ah!”

 

Strega gasped, silenced by the press of a finger against his entrance, prodding and threatening to push in. He sucked in a breath, clenching his teeth as the men grinned and snickered.

  
_“Don’t you fucking dare.”_

  
He cried out as the man forced his finger inside, his legs trembling as he curled it into him. He cursed the whimper that slipped from him, his eyes burning his attackers but losing their fierceness when another finger was forced in.

  
“P-pull that shit out, right now...”

  
Another finger was pushed in instead, throwing the Galassias’s head onto the head rest of the chair. His uncle would only use two fingers, before. It had always been enough, but three was just too much.

  
“Pull it out-”

  
“Christ, you Galassias never know when to shut up, huh?” The older man, a man in his late forties with peppered hair came forward, unzipping his pants to reveal a thick cock already dribbling with pre-cum.

  
“Fuck no-” Strega tries to say, but the man held his hair tightly and thrust into his mouth, making him choke on his words and the man’s head. The man grits his teeth when the Galassias tries to bite down, slapping Strega’s bruised cheek hard enough to draw tears from him.

  
“You think that coming here means you’re boss of us?” The man sneers, panting as he pulls away to shove himself back in. “Do you know where you are, bitch?”

  
_How fucking dare you._

  
“Hey, Favaro,” The man calls, adding a fourth finger inside Strega while he stretches him out. “How’s his mouth feel? Any good?”

  
“He’s doing nothing with his tongue, Amadeo!” Favaro complains, pulling Strega back onto his dick when he tried to wriggle away, pulling so tight that the Galassias swore his hair would be torn off.

  
“Really?” Amadeo huffs, disappointed. “You’d think with how much shit Galassias talk they’d have a better tongue.”

  
“Right?” Favaro chuckles, and Strega growls, trying again to tear away from the man’s grip but only being forced to take his entire cock.

  
Strega chokes, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as musk overwhelms his senses. He can feel himself going mad off the smell, but he swallows it down, and inevitably, swallows around Favaro’s cock.

  
_“Oh,”_

  
“What?” Amadeo forces one last finger inside, eliciting a pained moan from Strega, wriggling his fingers inside and making the Galassias buck and strain against his binds.

  
“He did something really nice just then-hey, do it again.”

  
Strega does nothing for a moment, but when Favaro slaps his red cheek again he gulps down on the thick cock in his throat and tastes bitterness. Favaro let out a low moan, grinning.

  
“Good boy,” He purrs, pulling out of him to offer him his balls. Strega stares at them suspiciously, ignoring the empty ache he feels from the loss. “Suck on them.”

  
Not wanting to get smacked again, Strega obeys. Reluctantly, he takes a sac into his mouth, kneading it around with his tongue and suckling gently. Favaro rolls his head back, the hand on his hip moving to stroke his length feverishly.

  
Strega watches him pump, glassy eyes watching the head emerge from skin to shrink back into it with each stroke, feeling weak from the sight.

  
The third man had disappeared, saying he’d be back, but Strega hadn’t noticed until Amadeo mentioned it. “Nino’s probably going to get a few more mates into the action,” The man mused as he balled his hands into a fist, pulling it out only to shove himself back in, Strega ignoring his task in order to scream. Favaro shoves him back onto his balls, keeping him there as he huffs. “Guess you’re going to have to pull out, then.”

  
“Yeah?” Amadeo continued fisting Strega’s ass for a while longer before finally pulling his hand out, carefully. Strega relaxes when he does, finally able to give Favaro his full attention. Pants filter out of Strega as he sucks, little whimpers trailing after as he can feel himself throbbing.

  
Favaro lets out one last groan, squeezing his seed until Strega’s covered with him. He hisses when cum hits his eye, burning him and springing more tears that mingle with the seed. Favaro hums satisfied, patting Strega’s side of his mouth with his dick and spilling the last bit of cum before pulling away to wipe up.

  
“Shit… I’m gonna need a minute,” Favaro says, resting against the wall to watch for a while.

  
Amadeo nods and whistles at the sight, pulling his dick out of his pants and guiding it to Strega’s loose, open hole.

  
“Don’t…” Strega still tries to fight, but he’s preoccupied with the taste of Favaro that lingers. _Someone fill him up, please._

  
“You don’t give out orders, bitch,” Amadeo snarls, slowly pushing himself into Strega’s ass and pulling out a long, drawn out keen from the Galassias. Amadeo grits his teeth, running his hands along Strega’s toned thighs before stopping at his waist. “ _You take them._ ”

  
Strega’s eyes widen at that, horror striking his face as Amadeo fills him up and stretches him where his thick fingers couldn’t reach and _fuck, that feels good._

  
_“Oh-”_ Strega has forgotten Favaro by the third thrust, Amadeo rolling his hips with each push and hitting a sweet spot his uncle had only hit once.

  
“F-fuck..! Fuck, fuck me…” Saliva dribbles down the side of his mouth, and his tied hands reach for Amadeo in desperation. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

  
“Oh?” Amadeo grins, picking the Galassias up from his chair and hovering him over his throbbing cock. He pushes the tip inside only to pull it out, rubbing against the entrance and making Strega whine.

  
“What did I say about giving out orders, slut?”

  
Strega trembles at that, staring at Amadeo in shock who one stares back. Are you kidding me?

 

“I can do whatever I want with you,” Strega whimpers as he nudges and prods at his hole, breaking down every last piece of restraint and dignity the Galassias has been trying to hold onto. “But I’m willing to listen to an obedient pet who asks nicely.”

  
“Oh, God…” Strega feels pathetic and helpless in Amadeo’s arms, unsure of what else he can really do.

  
“What do you want me to do, again?”

  
Strega swallows the last bit of pride he has, the bitter seed going down slow and hard.

  
“P-please… please fuck me.”

  
“Hmmm?”

  
“Please fuck my ass and f-fill me with your cum…”

  
\---

  
“Oh! Oh yes!” Strega bounces on Amadeo’s dick, rolling his hips and throwing himself down onto him. Sweat and cum run down the Galassias’s face, licking his lips for any trace of seed.

  
“You’re getting really good at this,” Amadeo purrs, slamming him down and impaling him with his cock. Strega throws his head back, his ass clenching around him tight as Amadeo fills him up with hot, sticky cum.

  
Strega’s eyes roll up to the ceiling, trembling as he’s about to cum. He rests his head on the back of his neck, getting off on how full his ass is and the way Amadeo’s cock goes limp inside and the cum that oozes out when Amadeo pulls out.

  
And just as he’s about to cum, Amadeo grips Strega’s dick tightly, halting the orgasm and pushing him against the floor. As he feels the high disappear, Strega grows infuriated.

  
“What the _hell?”_

  
“Sorry,” Amadeo grins lazily. “Avilio strictly told us not to let you cum.”

  
_Avilio._ He never would have thought _Avilio_ could be so cruel, or evil enough to _deny_ him release. Strega’s about to yell and throw a fit when he looks up to see a group of men huddled at the door, staring him down like a piece of meat.

  
“That is, not until every one of us cums.”

  
\---

 

Nino lays under Strega, gripping him tightly where Amadeo once did, and where his uncle last did, and the Galassias knows that he won’t be the last to do so. Nino churns Strega’s insides with Amadeo and Nino, but at some point he gets tired.

  
“Do a little bit of work yourself, _puttana_.”

  
When Nino smacks his ass and gropes his cheek with scratches and imprints, Strega arches his back and spreads his legs. Slowly, he lowers himself onto Nino’s cock-which is thicker than Amadeo’s and Favaro- and almost threatens to fall back onto him. He hangs his head, steadying his trembling legs as he raises himself back up to sink down.

  
“S-so thick…”

  
“Yeah, just how you like it,” Nino purrs in his ear, licking at the lobe and smacking him again. “Go faster.”

  
“All right, let me join!” One of the men, getting tired of jacking off, marches over and pulls Strega off of Nino.

  
Nino growls, propping himself up on his elbows. “Bastard, I’m not finished with him.”

  
“Lay back, Nino, I’m only switching positions, here.”

  
Strega is staring down at Nino as the other man guides him back onto Nino’s thickness. The Galassias could have probably cum just from that if it weren’t for the damned bind on his cock that was tied into an insulting ribbon.

  
“Wow,” The man whistles, his hands spreading Strega’s ass cheeks apart as Nino thrusts, admiring the sight. “He’s got such a pretty ass! I almost feel bad for wanting to fuck him.”

  
“Yeah, but you’re still gonna do it, huh?” Amadeo grins, the rest of the man chuckling.

  
“You bet!”

  
“Wait a minute,” Strega interrupts, turning his head to look at him. “You can’t mean--”

  
“Shut up, bitch,” The man purrs, forcing his dick in with Nino’s and eliciting a scream from Strega.

  
“That’s a pretty noise you just made, kitten!”

  
“Yeah, we’ll want to hear more of that~”

  
Nino yanks Strega back to look at him, marveling the tear streaks and lewd expression. Oh, if only he had a camera.

  
“How’d you like the attention, _gatto_?”

  
Strega’s gasping for air but his lungs are filling with the smell of man and he’s only able to push out mewls and pathetic whimpers. His mouth twitches, begs bubbling out of him as Nino and the man pound his ass.

  
“I asked you a question.”

  
Nino hit the sweet spot Amadeo had before, and Strega cried out when he did. “Oh, I love it,” The words flood his lips like a waterfall. He whispers it like a prayer, unable to think straight. “I love it so much, I love your cocks _so much_ …”

  
“Oh yeah?” Nino raises his brow, hitting that sweet spot again and Strega keens, begging again.

  
“Oh please, please, _please,”_ Strega holds onto the last word, dragging it with a moan and sounding like a cat. “I wanna cum, _please_ let me cum…”

  
“Aw, the poor kitten!” The man behind Strega pulled out, spilling his seed onto his ass and watching his cum run down his legs. The other men in the room surround Strega now, watching him ride Nino with hungry eyes. “Should we let him cum?”

  
“Here, suck me off and we’ll let you cum.” A man smears pre-cum along Strega’s cheek until he takes him into his mouth, letting out a groan of satisfaction when he does.

  
“Don’t forget about me, kitten!” Another offers Strega a dick to stroke, and soon all the Galassias can see are cocks of different shapes, sizes and accumulation of cum.

  
One of the kinder men finally untie the ribbon on Strega’s dick and let him go wild.

  
In just a few pumps, few thrusts, and a few bobs, Strega cums.

  
The Galassias spills onto Nino’s chest, coating the man with a waterfall of semen. Even as Strega goes limp from exhaustion, ribbons of cum overflow until the Galassias is coated with Favaro, Amadeo, Nino, and the others.

  
\---

  
Avilio visits him later on with dinner, but notes that the King is probably fill from his earlier meal.

  
Still, he pushes the bowl towards Strega, reaching in his coat pocket for something. Strega imagines it might be a knife, but he’s still too tired to fight back.

  
When Avilio takes out a collar, Strega is confused.

  
It’s only when he puts it on the King that he realizes what it means. He’s about to protest when Avilio speaks up.

  
“You don’t need your clothes-tomorrow we’ll burn them.”

  
Strega stares at the closed door, listening to the click of the door locking and swallows the reality of his situation.

  
It goes down easier than he thought it would.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this! There was a lot I wanted to do but my stamina is weak in some regards-but I hope you guys enjoyed reading Strega getting fucked <3
> 
> This is, of course, brought to you by The Hellchat™


End file.
